In the Night
by Daughter of the Bomb
Summary: Reloaded version  Pairing: Stabbington/Gothel. One of the Stabbington brothers exchanges words with Mother Gothel. mature themes, one shot.


**Hey Guys, I really did have to get this out of my system, esspecially since theres only a select number of gothel fics and only three stabbington brother fics (THESE TWO NEED MORE LOVE, SERIOUSLY!). I don't really know how this happened, I've just had this pairing swirling in my head; and i do plan on writing a longer fanfic with more chapters about what was really going on behind the scenes, but I need to wait until the 'Tangled' DVD comes out so I can get all my facts straight. This scene here happens between the 'Mother Knows Best: Reprise' and when the Stabbington brothers show up with the green lantern after the song 'Now I see the Light'. Just to let you know...**

**Anywho, sorry to keep you guys waiting, hope you enjoy, and please review :]**

She's been checking over her shoulder on and off again for a long time now.

Makes me wonder if her neck's started hurting yet; I would ask, but I know I won't. It's just not something I do, asking people how they feel or ask them if they're uncomfortable. It's not because I don't care about people, it's just that I don't care about _most_ people. I care about my brother, then again that's about it; and I can't even ask him about how he feels about something because he wouldn't even be able to answer. He's been as mute as a tree since the day we were ripped from our mother's belly. Mother died shortly after we took in our first breathes; our father blamed us for it. He wasn't exactly a good parent. He was a drunkard with two dumb twin sons who took his beatings with a silent obedience, but who he married after our true mother's death wouldn't stand for it. She was a kind woman, noble and fair; with deep mud eyes and soft ink black hair.

Hair the same color as the woman across from me who keeps looking behind herself.

A part of me wanted to talk to her; I got that feeling sometimes when I was around other people besides my brother, people who could answer my questions. My father didn't like questions; but the woman I called Mother, although not by blood, would satisfy me with real answers as a child. Life as a child with my brother was wholesome and felt like honey; not the taste of honey, of course, but that warm and light color that would take it's time when it slid down your throat. That's what my brother and I have in common; he cannot talk, and I cannot taste. Not to mention the scar stretching down the sides of both of our identical faces, only on different sides of our face. When our Father cut us like that, his hand slipped and made our cuts different. Mine is thicker than my brother's thin, but my brother's is deeper when mine barely breaks into my flesh enough to bleed. As I said before hand, Father's hand slipped; but it wasn't the same differences between thick and thin, but that he stabbed my brother through the eye. But I stabbed him in the throat. I guess that might make my aim better than his.

We decided that she's pretty.

I can't stop watching her; sure, I'll stop, but it's not but flaps of a heartbeat before my eyes are back on her. She's probably noticed by now, my flickering eyes, I don't see how she might not have. She's a smart woman, which is more than what my brother and I can say for each other. But what we make up for brains we may make up not only in brawn, but in wisdom. It's true; one can be dumber than wood but be as wise as any wizard. Which only reminds me of the unnatural power of the woman before me; she is a witch. I still remember when she first approached us; a dark promise she made to us, a promise she claimed that she would keep. But that's for another time.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She's still looking behind her own back, but her face is within my view, and her expression has not changed. I steady my pair of earl grey eyes on her set in stone frame as she turns to me with lips pouted and eye brows on the edge of furrowing, her own stormy eyes narrowed but revealing her true curiosity. But her question still hangs.

"Why do you keep looking behind yourself?" She releases a breath; air I doubt she knew she was holding. And it makes me think I broke her as she outwardly collapses in on herself.

"I don't know anymore." She looks so tired then, her strong shoulders turned weak as she rests her face in her hands, holding up the weight of her head as though it would suffice for the weight of her worries. We both know it won't be enough though.

"Go sleep." It's not a command, and barely above a whisper, just a simple suggestion; but she's probably already thought of it before. I know she hears me as she peaks her grey goose eyes through her adaptive fingers, eying me with that static questioning stare.

"Can't." I take that as a signal for our conversation to be done with, so I lower my eyes to watch the embers of the former fire that are yet to die. A part of me wants to splash water over the crackling remains, so as to fully let it die and return to nothing but ash as it should have become a long time ago. But I won't. Why waste water over pathetic little embers?

She's still looking at me, her head now resting on the palms of her melodramatic hands.

I ignore her; though my mind does not stray from her.

I remember when me and my brother decided that she was pretty.

It was soon after we met her actually. It had started as nudges between elbows, then raised eye brows, elevating to smug smiles, and then the 'look'. It always seemed to boil down to my brother's 'look'. With my brother, it was like he could say everything he had to say with that simple 'look' of his. It was that look and that crooked smile and the glimmer in the eyes that seemed to say that he knew things; as though he had read my mind and knew things that I didn't even know about. It was whenever that stupid look got on his face that I wanted to punch him; but physical violence between us brothers was never allowed. For if we didn't have each other, who did we have?

Most often my brother made the 'look' when we were keeping a woman's presence; which admittedly was something we didn't keep often. To be honest, my brother and I both have had a woman before; and I'm not speaking about as a right of marriage. We have our different set of amounts of woman we've had, and it's not like we ever talk about it our anything, we refuse to be perverse about the trust those woman laid in our hands, as well as their bodies. But the similarities between my brother's knowing look conspiring with when I've had a woman have absolutely have nothing to do with each other. Of course he thinks otherwise, but he's wrong, so what does it matter what he thinks? Besides as of late he's been making the knowing face around this Mother Gothel, who is someone who will definitely _not_ end up in my arms; for although I can respect her grace and beauty, I can't imagine her returning the feelings for me. As far as I'm concerned I'm beginning to think she's incapable of feeling passionate for another human being beside her rebellious blonde daughter, and even then it's just the passion to pursue her and stop her from having said daughter's so called dreams come true. But I can understand how she might feel about the whole situation, for her daughter's 'dream' is stupid and pathetic.

It makes me wonder if a man's ever had her; Mother Gothel.

She's not exactly ugly, you know.

I don't know why my brother thinks I have an intimate interest in her, but I can see why anyone else would find her appropriate as a romantic partner.

There was of course her tugged lips, straight edged nose, her wide grey peal blue eyes, eye lashes that were as long and tangled as tree branches, the peculiar way her face was shaped, her thick body that curved like an old stone road, and of course her thorn black raven hair. But it wasn't just her looks that made her beautiful; it was the confidence and the way she held herself, her little mannerisms and personnel attributes of her character. She was a woman of stark wit and cunning, as fearsome as any lip curled midnight wolf yet as perched and doting as a morning dove. As if already she was not striking enough, it seemed her hands just added to her oddly natural appealing looks. When she talked good naturedly they danced, when she scorned someone they clawed, when she was flustered they fussed, when she was moody they ticked, and when she moped they grieved. It was fascinating to say in the least, everything about her was so new and unknown and sudden.

It was alluring.

And with that I sneak a look in her direction.

She's been watching me all this time and it makes me nervous, as it rightfully should; but the second I look into those lightning eyes my own eyes are stuck like a foolish fly in a spider's web.

"What are you looking at?" I growl in my defense, still pathetically staring into her eyes.

"_You_."

The least she could have done was lied.

It's the way she says it, all smug and highly strung about it. Her lips as they opened to release and the simplicity of them diving from her mouth, her vocal cords stretching and release that seductively angelic voice that when she sung it could make a demons sell their very soul yet again just to get closer to her.

But this isn't good for me; I don't know how to respond to her honesty. So I unsheathe a stolen dagger long enough that in one good swing to the belly I've gutted entire deer's before. I grab one of the logs of wood untouched by the long gone fire and begin chipping at it and slicing off slim pieces to carve it into a shape of something I don't even know of yet.

She's still watching.

I'm just about ready to go over and kick my sleeping brother; he's the one who gave me the look who got me thinking about all these stupid things and how magnificent the creature before me really is. Not to mention when he told me with his eyes that he was going to go sleep a little before we moved out to attack Rider, he looked over at me and pushed my shoulder with that goddamn knowing look on his face and winked at me as he walked over within rock throwing distance and laid down. Which turns out is just barely far enough for me to start to really feel like I was truly alone with _her_.

He is _dead meat_ the _second_ he wakes up.

But that's later: because for the moment he's still asleep.

For the moment I'm still alone with her.

When we had agreed to work with her for a promise of revenge and money and a dark pledge for all parties included I never would have imagined that it would have taken a twist like this. It's just not fair. I want our side of the agreement fulfilled and then I want to get a warm sewer tasting beer from the Snuggly Duckling Tavern even if it grabs fistfuls of my aching stomach like it usually does. I would much prefer all of that that my current situation.

I am coming very close to throwing a rock at my sleeping brother.

Where did this all go wrong? It just happened so suddenly and so fast and now I feel like I'm being cornered, and I might as well be since she's clearly got the upper hand in this gambit.

That's it.

I look up from my mutilated carving to glare without any sign of empathy from my double tipped sword grey eyes to fall victim to her pale iron clad eyes; as if I even had a chance to avenge myself.

She smiles knowing she's won, but unknowing to how lucky she is I'm against hitting women.

"What's your name?"

"Stabbington."

"I meant your _first_ name." I lean back and look over to the side to see if by any possible chance my brother is secretly awake and watching, or pretending to be asleep. But no, he's over there lying on his side facing us with enough drool coming out of his mouth to sail a ship through it. I look back at Gothel and sigh, eyes narrowed as I run my giant hands over the prickles beginning to grow back on my chin.

"My names Hadrian, and my brother over there name's Lief." I jerk my head over to the lucky bastard dreaming his cares away; she looks at him in dull interest, her hands crossed across her lap, nods at me and smiles. It's a moment of creeping silence when I realize I have something to work to my advantage.

"Isn't a lady supposed to be courteous?" She looks back to me with a flame of agitation alight and I know for a fact that I have her full attention. And what an advantage it is.

"Yes." She snaps, her mouth spitting it out.

"Well, isn't only fair if you tell me your name?" Her eye brows have knitted together and she's curling my guts with a glare that would frighten most men, but I'm not most men; fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looks at it.

"Gothel."

"I meant your _first_ name." I can't help but be smug in my victory, though she's bound to be angered by all this; wouldn't blame her considering I've been in the same exact position, even though it truly is her getting her just and deserving backlash of my redemption. With arms now crossed in front of her chest and shoulders prickling and hands scratching her forearms as her eyes look behind her.

"Ayleth… Ayleth Gothel." My eye brows raise and she must have seen my reaction, because she's suddenly glaring daggers and I ease and lean forward with my elbows on my knees looking at her.

"S'nice name." I'm honest when I say it, and it's true. The name suits her. It lightens her mood and her stance instantly switches as she straightens her spine yet her arms remain crossed.

"Thank you… Hadrian… It was my grandmother's name." I can't help but smile.

"Lucky, my dad named me and my brother after two of his prized pigs." Her eye brows fly almost to her hair line as she tried to contain her laughter, only to prove most unsuccessful. It's an honest laugh, full and natural, and flows from her lung weightlessly, as it should. Not that deep falling kind of laugh that would normally come from me or my brother. Her laugh is charming, and it makes me release a rumble from my chest, somewhat similar to an uncharacteristic snicker. It's nice. This, is nice.

Then it's this kind of comfortable silence as she settles into it killing her unsuppressed yawns with the back of her hand, it's easy to tell that she's tired again. Reminding me earlier when she said she couldn't sleep, making me wonder if she tried again she'd be dreaming away like my brother. I'm beginning to feel tired myself, but one of us has to stay awake, right? I rub the back of my head with my large gritty hand, callused and unclean and scrapped up. Resting my head on my hand I look back up at her, something I've been doing a lot lately; but there she is looking right back at me with a thankful smile, something she's been doing a lot lately too, oddly enough.

"Ready for sleep?" She leans over and recreates the same body stance identical to my own, head resting in her hand, face parallel to mine. Only difference is that from this angle if I stretch my neck I can see down her dress just a little more, but still, I can't complain about my current view now. My eyes pull back to her face and I can't help but pray she didn't notice the flicker in my eyes, that uncontrollable twitching between her chest and her face. But with that smile on her face; I feel like she knows.

"I'm tired, but someone has to stay guard." Her lips pout, and a part of me wishes I could take it back and just admit that my body needs rest and go into blissful sleep like my idiot brother. She stands up and brushes whatever dust might've settled off of her and looks down at me with storming eyes half shut, studying me behind those long lashes. She grabs my arm holding up my head and begins to sleepily drag me off with her, probably knowing just how tempting the idea really is to me.

"Oh come on Hadrian, we need you to save your strength to go up against Rider," her hand comes up to grab the square tip of my chin, "We don't need you tired when that time comes, now do we?" her hand softens and strokes the bristles of my last shave growing back in, going so far as to run her delicate hand along the rough side burns that are turning to mutton chops. It feels nice.

"Just a nap right?" I smile and with mind spinning with sleep I follow her.

"Ex-actly." She grins back at me, knowing she's winning the jackpot now. We don't go far at all, actually just sit down with our backs against the log I was just sitting on. An idea is beginning to form at the back of my head, and I turn to her to let her know about it.

"You know, if we sit with our backs against the log, it's going to hurt when we wake up. But if we just lay down here, our backs will be fine. Makes sense to me. Is that good with you?" Our eyes meet and I've got one eye brow raised in question, her watching me with comfortable stability.

"Sounds good." Together we lay down, small polite smiles as we arrange our own limbs so our bodies won't ache when we wake up. It doesn't really matter whose winning anymore, I've stopped caring, and something tells me she's stopped counting the victories. It feels good to lie down, even just good enough to be lying down next to her. I don't know if this is really lead to anything, I don't really see how it could, but one can never really know. I don't know if I want it too. This is good enough for me. She's here beside me, warm and sweet and close. And for the moment that's all that really matters; me and my brother will have Flynn Rider to skin another day, Gothel will have her daughter to chase after when she wakes, our dark agreement will be fulfilled, and it goes on. Just the little things. I don't know; I don't really even know what I mean. I just want _this_ to keep going, like if we stop it then they'll be no chance of getting it back, no return if we pass a point we can't even see. It scares me, that blindness. The blindness scares me because I'm starting to think no one knows a way around it.

But someone will; someone has to fix things, right?

We'll be fine. We just have to be careful.

"Hadrian?" Her voice is light, cautious as she threads her words carefully.

"Yea, Ayleth?" One of my hands curl around her small waist, she practically fits in the palm of hand.

"Good night." It's just a whisper, as soft as her skin and as promising as her ashen blue eyes.

"Good night." I want to say more, but I won't. It will have to wait till I'm brave enough to say it.

I feel sick to my stomach with thoughts of what's to come when we all wake.

Revenge tomorrow, and lies, and deceit, and deception, and it will crush someone's dreams; to sacrifice someone's dreams for someone else's, never knowing if they deserve it or not.

I feel like this won't last. But if I try, I can forget that, and tonight…

Tonight I can forget about all the other things and just hold her.


End file.
